


They'll Tell Our Story

by fanfiction_trashpile



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Hamilton prompt, force 4 ham, force 4 ham prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_trashpile/pseuds/fanfiction_trashpile
Summary: Drinks with the gang on what could be our last night alive… there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Reader
Kudos: 10





	They'll Tell Our Story

Drinks with the gang on what could be our last night alive… there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Your beer and the atmosphere are bittersweet. It’s not a goodbye. You’ll never let that word pass your lips. It’s just a final chance to get a little tipsy with some good friends before your world changes completely.

You sit between Jyn and Baze at a table much too small for the six that perch around it. Bodhi is slumped over his second rum and coke (that boy is the lightest lightweight you had ever met) with Chirrut and Cassian on either side of him. The seating arrangement was at Jyn’s insistence (though you can’t imagine why she would want to sit between the most adorable couple in the resistance, you and Cassian.)

The bar was never very full to begin with, and has completely emptied save for your group by the time you’ve gotten the second round of drinks. The bartender slips into the back for a moment, and you take advantage of the alone time.

Standing, you raise your glass, “I may not live through tomorrow, but if I am to die, I wouldn’t have it any other way. When the children of the Rebellion look back on our success, they’ll tell this story. So, I propose a toast to freedom. To hope. To the six of us.”

The others stand, clinking their glasses against yours.

“Whether we succeed or fail, they will remember us.” You think of your friends, those that you’ve flown with since before you can remember, those that have lived through the war, those that have died, and those whose stories you tell. “They will tell our story.”

“The story of faith.” Baze looks across the table at Chirrut, who smiles.

“The story of strength.” Chirrut responds, reaching across the table for Baze, who takes his hand.

“The story of a little girl who found her way home, and grew up along the way.” Jyn smiles at you and Cassian.

“The story of war. And of love.” Cassian looks at you like he’s seeing for the first time, and you can’t help but grin. Bodhi quietly fangirls and Jyn gags, mocking you. Cassian pushes her back in her seat and leans over her to kiss you gently. She covers her eyes until the both of you have pulled away, and punches both of you lightly. “Gross.” She wrinkles her nose.

You speak up, “The story of a rebel, an assassin, a blind monk, his protector, a defected Imperial pilot, and a sniper. The story of the rebels who rebelled against the rebellion.” They smile at that. “The story of how a ragtag volunteer army in need of a shower,” you look pointedly at Cassian, who shrugs, eliciting laughter from everyone, “Somehow defeated an intergalactic super power.”

“Don’t jinx it.” Bodhi looks a bit worried.

“If ‘jinxing it’ was actually something to be worried about, I’d be dead.” You assure him.

“We don’t have to worry about who will tell our story after we’re gone. We can’t control that.” Baze states. “We can only control what we do. We will succeed tomorrow. I believe in that.”

“What happens if we do?” Jyn asks. “What happens if we get the plans?”

“We destroy the Death Star.” You state.

The others are silent. If we win tomorrow, we could win this war. Peace could be restored to the galaxy. Vengeance for our dead.

We could win.

These plans are the closest thing to hope that most of us have left.

You throw your head back and finish off your drink. The others follow suit. “Another round wouldn’t hurt, right?” you say in an attempt to break the tension.

Bodhi shakes his head (which is probably for the best), but the others nod. I wave to the bartender through the glass window that leads to the back. He push through the door and I stand. “We’ll have one more round tonight. Then we’ll get out of here.”

He smiles and begins pouring drinks.


End file.
